#thomally

when he briefly feels thomas press a kiss against his lips before he’s shoving the boy backwards, with enough force that he stumbles into the table behind him and drops down hard, a pained groan escaping him — jorge is given his answer. “listen, hermano, thats really sweet you think i’m attractive and all, but i think you’re a little too young for me.”

thomas spits out a wad of blood. “i don’t think that at all.”

“…right. and you randomly kissed me why, exactly?” jorge helps thomas onto his feet, pushing away the random pieces of scrap metal to the side so the teen can sit down. a small compartment underneath opens up to showcase a loaded gun and a plethora of medical supplies, which jorge begins to tear apart to treat the open wounds on thomas’s face.

“well, i’m hoping to avoid death tonight, but i don’t think i will.” thomas hisses as antiseptic is wiped under the curve of his lips, but makes no effort to move away, completely drained.

jorge pauses. “death? from whom?”

“i don’t — “ thomas starts, but he pauses. remembers the ringing in his ears as the bullet went past him, and clams up. “nevermind. it’s nothing, i promise.”

“you let yourself get beat up for nothing?” jorge rolls his eyes. “if this is some sort of pleasure for you, i’m going to advise mary to become your personal therapist.”

“i said it’s nothing. it doesn’t matter what happens to me, i deserve it anyways.” thomas grumbles out, trying to push himself off the table.

“alright, alright! i overstepped, my bad.” he gently pushes thomas back onto the table, squeezing his shoulder. thomas stiffens, attempting to hide the pain show. why don’t you sit back down and i’ll go grab some gauze from the medical tents and i’ll send you off your way — to your demise, since you desire to meet your end this instant.”

thomas watches his back as jorge leaves his cabin, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. 20 minutes until midnight. he zones out, watching as the minutes tick by, tears streaming down his face as regret and anger surge within himself.

eight minutes before midnight, the door slams open, with an out of breath minho. newt barrels in behind him, sweat trickling down his face. teresa crashes right behind the two boys, numerous vials and liquid substances cradled in her arms. brenda pushes her way through with a rifle in her hand, covered from head-to-toe in misleanous weaponry. gally shoves them all inside, gripping the letter tightly in his fist.

“thomas!” they scream in unison. thomas doesn’t get a chance to blink, before they’re huddled around him, inspecting his face and pushing off his jacket and reeling him into a warm embrace.